


Floating

by twinkstimulator



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Bruises, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Reader, Light Dom/sub, Love Bites, Massage, Mating Bites, Rimming, Rough Sex, Subspace, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkstimulator/pseuds/twinkstimulator
Summary: You and Vergil perform aftercare after a particularly rough scene. It doesn't quite go to plan.(Ch. 1 = filth, Ch. 2 = aftercare)
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i said i wanted to write something cute after 'nine more' but instead i wrote this 😂😂😂i ref'd the handmaiden in that fic cause its legit my fav movie and i got inspired by the bath scene in it to write this! ngl this is nasty even for me
> 
> hope ya like tho!!
> 
> beta read by: Shalashaskalot

The hot water filling the tub steams up the bathroom, white clouds float up towards the ceiling as condensation forms on the mirror. Brushing his knuckles under the running water, testing the temperature, Vergil heaves a tired sigh. He slicks his hair back with his moistened hand and looks behind him through the connecting bedroom door. From where he stood, he can still see your legs splayed out on the bed, unmoving.

Turning back towards the tub, he runs a heavy handful of bath soak under the faucet, watching the tiny dried purple and yellow flowers unravel in the heat of the water. He turns off the tap, satisfied with the temperature, and as he heads towards your shared bedroom his eyes drift back to you. 

You’re laying on the bed, with your arm strewn over your face, still catching your breath. Legs splayed open, and from where Vergil stood leaning against the door jamb, he could just make out the little bite marks he had left behind on your inner thighs. You’re still quivering from the aftershocks. He goes over to sit by the edge of the bed and holds you close to him, running a soothing hand down your sweat-soaked spine, nuzzling into your neck. The scene the two of you played out that night had taken a lot out of you, it seems.

Aftercare involved very different things for you and Vergil, but you both managed to make it work. Your needs were more physical: a gentle touch, stroking your hair, the weight of your partner’s body against yours. You needed the tangible reminder of your partner’s presence as you come down from a scene, something to help ease you down from your high gently back into the physical world - lest you crash. You could have been marked up, throttled, wrecked, your throat hoarse from so much screaming, or even just lightly spanked or played out a little role play session; you craved your partner’s physical presence, a kind of skin hunger takes over you. 

Vergil, on the other hand, had more emotional needs during aftercare. His aftercare involves tending to your needs and making sure that you were okay; he finds solace and solidity in looking after you and your wellbeing, in watching you come back to yourself - coming back to him. He had the tendency to get rather rough during a scene, leaving behind bite marks and bruises and hickeys while in the moment. He felt this compulsive need to mark you up - as if to show off to others that you were his - but he can never quell the hint of guilt he feels immediately after doing so, especially on nights like this. He needs to make sure that he doesn’t go too far: too far for him to stop or, too far for you to even tell him to; and you know he needs to see how you will always respond to him, even in stillness, even when you’re so far gone you can barely form a coherent sentence - you will always come back to him.

Vergil skims his calloused hands over your already bruising hips. You wince - his hand jumps away, as if scalded. He lifts a hand up and rests it against the back of your head, guiding your head to lie against the nape of his neck; the other takes its place at the base of your spine once more.

He glares down at the raw red handprints marring your ass. You’ll be feeling those for days. He feels you shake your head, replying to something left unspoken.

“It’s okay,” You mutter, muffled against his warm skin. “It felt good,” 

Vergil catches how your voice croaks hoarsely. He faintly runs his knuckles up and down your spine, ending just at the small of your back. 

“It displeases me to see you in so much pain,”

“I’ll be fine,” You press a kiss just under his ear. “I promise,” 

A wry smile stretches across his lips. Unconvinced. He pulls an arm under your knees and lifts you slowly, carrying you to the awaiting tub.

By now the heady scent of flowers has perfumed the whole room and the thick steam from the bath was making it a little hard to breathe. The rest of the room was dark, the only sources of light were the little gold flares of candlelight on the counter, colouring the entire bathroom a soft, flickering orange. After placing you in the bath - savouring your tired moans - Vergil goes and opens up the far window, stopping to gaze down at the night life of Red Grave City. The sounds of honking car horns and the hustle and bustle of the night only just reach the two of you in your little corner of paradise, faint enough to ignore if needed.

He turns back to you, notices how the candlelight tints you golden; watches you stretch out your back with a cat-like laziness and rest your arms on the rim of the tub. An errant water droplet cascades from your shoulder down your side. His cock stirs again.  _ Not now. _

Vergil pads over and sits on the edge of the bath, hesitating, before he occupies himself with pouring scented bath oil in the water. As you lean back, he notices how some of the oil has coated your chest and nipples, covering them in a slick sheen, as if begging him to touch them. His breath catches in his throat. He diverts his gaze, but you catch him, your eyes still glassy and unfocussed but all too knowing. You reach a hand up from the water and rest it on his cheek, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone, and he turns his face into your palm and places a gentle kiss, his head flooding with your scent. He eyes the goosebumps forming on your forearm, and the deep remnants of fresh rope marks over your wrist.

“Join me,” You mumble, exhausted.

He considers, and after a bit of manoeuvring, he does so. He leans back in the tub, with you on your side leaning against his chest. Your ear is right over his heart, and the strong metronome of his heartbeat soothes you even more. His hand rests over your hip, thumbing at a particularly deep bite mark. You sigh, sinking further into his arms. Vergil closes his eyes, basking in the moment, just listening to the sound of the water rippling against the sides of the tub. He draws patterns over your body, hoping to ease the ache you no doubt feel settling into your muscles.

Reaching over the two of you, he grabs a washcloth and lathers it. He arranges you opposite him and starts gently scrubbing your body, careful to not aggravate the bruises and marks on your ass whenever he adjusted your position. His touch softens around all the marks and hickeys he left behind over your neck and chest. He cradles your calf as he rubs up and down your legs, placing a kiss at the arches of your feet before setting them back down into the water. He washes all the little bubbles away, and it takes all of his effort to not watch how the water cascades the suds down your chest.

He repeats this little ritual with your hair, lightly massaging the shampoo into your scalp. You were in his lap now, facing him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms loosely clasped around his neck. It was getting harder and harder to ignore his semi-hard cock pressed between your bodies. He has your head tilted back as he washes away all the bubbles, with a hand placed by your hairline to stop the water from running down your face, when you grind down on him.

Immediately he grabs your hips - dropping the shower head into the water - stopping your movement. Only to release you a moment later, feeling you flinch, when he realises what he’s done. He pulls you against him and peppers sweet kisses up your neck and over your lips in apology. He fishes out the shower head and hooks it back in place.

“No more for tonight,” He mutters, running a soothing hand down your spine.

“Just one,” You beg, your lips just grazing his own. “One more,”

“You’re clearly exhausted,”

“Just one more,” You repeat, a little more conviction in your voice, however tired you are. “I can take it,”

“Please?”

He sighs, shutting his eyes, annoyed. That furrow in his brow returns. You kiss over it, giggling when it immediately smoothes out, fond exasperation taking its place. Vergil considers.

“Turn around,”

You manoeuvre yourself around - feeling a small swell of triumph when you hear him mutter ‘brat’ under his breath - and he positions you how he wants you: with you on your knees, your head cradled by your folded arms on the far edge of the tub. Your ass is right in front of his face now, presenting. You sway your hips, chuckling to yourself when you see that exasperated smirk reappear on his face. He grasps your hips - softly this time - to still you.

Like this he can see all the marks, bites, and bruises he inflicted on you earlier that night. In fact he can still see the remnants of older bruises, still in the midst of fading, interspersed among the fresher ones. He runs a tentative finger around a bite mark before kissing it, running his tongue over the indents of his teeth. You let out a shaky sigh, interest stirring inside you, feeling yourself start to get wet again as he prods softly at your clit.

He does the same with more marks, more bruises, as if he can fix them if he tried hard enough. You watch him all the while, he has this concentrated look on his face that he really only gets when he’s trying really hard to hold himself back from doing something. He feels your gaze and meets it with his own steely one, as if daring you to look away. 

He sets the flat of his tongue and licks a stripe up your cunt. A high pitched cry escapes you as you shut your eyes, revelling in the feeling bordering on oversensitivity.

“Don’t look away, you asked for this remember?” He pulls your cheeks further apart to get better leverage. 

You force your eyes to open and meet his once more. “Vergil, pleas-”

“I’m going to take you one more time, and you are going to cum on my tongue,”

He licks up the new slick you’re leaking, losing himself in your taste while watching for your reactions. You whine, still so sensitive. Vergil circles a finger around your entrance before entering you slowly, feels how soft you still were from his actions earlier that night, and wriggles his tongue alongside his finger, his thumb still playing idly with your clit. He always loved the feel of you, whether on his tongue, his fingers, or his cock; you were always so soft, smooth, slippery. Even now he can feel your quivering muscles when he crooks his finger and taps at that soft spot inside you, feels the keen you let out vibrate through your whole body to reverberate on his questing tongue. Always so responsive to him. 

You let out a shuddering moan. You can already feel your release building. The wet slurping sounds of him lapping up your pussy echo in the room, echo in your mind. Your face gets hotter. You can’t look away.

* * *

The water sloshes around the two of you, splashing over the edge of the tub. Vergil doesn’t let you rest. He has two long, thick fingers scissoring inside your cunt now as he suckles at your clit, his digits circling around your soft spot. You squirm as he nips at your clit, sucking as he lets it go before thumbing at it once more. 

Your head falls into your folded arms, your eyes squeezing shut, losing yourself in the pleasure. He shifts, stilling his fingers momentarily, and you don’t realise what he’s doing until you feel his breathe against your other hole. 

“Ver-!” You choke on a gasp.

He licks over your asshole, coating it with his spit. A long, high whine escapes your throat. His pointed tongue plays with your rim, lapping greedily at your twitching hole. You can feel his saliva trickling down towards your pussy - still being pumped full by his fingers. You force your eyes open to look back at him.

His hair is a mess, falling away from his usual slicked back style all over his face. His face is flushed red up to his ears. His eyes are all pupil now, with a thin rim of - glowing - blue iris; his gaze had a glossed over, desperate and determined look to them. That furrow in his brow is back again. He’s panting as heavily as you are, letting out muffled groans while burying his face closer into your ass. You feel him clamp around your hole and suck. You wail, overwhelmed at the feeling.

His hard cock strains in the water, grazing your thigh. You want to cum around it again, feel it stretch you wide open, pounding away at you. You want to squeeze down on his cock as you cum and feel his throbbing length pulsate as he releases deep inside you; your cunt quivering around him, trying to milk him, pumping you full. You want to stuff it down your throat, gagging on it, as you barely manage to fit it all in; feel him pump hot cum down your throat, filling your mouth to brimming, barely keeping it all inside, choking it down to try and swallow as much of him as you can.

He pulls himself out of your cunt and circles a finger - still soaked in your slick - around your rim before slowly pushing it inside. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. He pumps his finger in and out of your ass, stretching you. You can’t stop shaking. Some of the bath water has spilled out onto the floor now. You don’t realise that you’re drooling. You can’t hear yourself whining.

Another finger stuffs itself inside your ass. His other hand that was spreading your ass open for him, reaches down and pushes two fingers back in your cunt. You feel  _ so full _ .

The second finger pumps in and out, in and out, beside the first. The fingers in your pussy are scissoring inside your tight passage,as his thumb plays with your clit. You’re leaking a steady stream of slick that falls directly into the bath water. Drool spills out from your slackened mouth, coating the crook of your elbow, as choked whines spill out of your throat.

Those thick fingers plunge in and out of your puckered hole, the burn of the stretch makes your cunt twitch around him. They stretch you even wider, before you feel his tongue lick into your hole between the two digits. The muscle feels so large writhing inside you, unbridled, powerful - it barely fits between his fingers, making him stretch your asshole even more. You’re barely coherent, your high-pitched keens and hiccuping cries flood the room. His spit-slicked fingers scissor in and out of you faster, his tongue licking deep inside you laps into you further, you feel his hungry groans vibrate through your whole being. The loud, wet sounds of him eating you out, desperately, violently, undoes you.

A loud scream escapes you as you cum, squirting all over him, soaking him from his neck down to his chest. His tongue thrusts impossibly deeper into you, spurred on by the feeling of your release splashing against him. You clench impossibly tight around his fingers, pulling his fingers deeper into you, prolonging your orgasm. Vergil keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, playing with your clit, until your orgasm ebbs away and you’re violently shaking from overstimulation. Carefully, he retracts his tongue, giving your rim a few more licks before he pulls away; he slowly twists his fingers out - first out of your ass, then your cunt - leaving you gaping, empty, clenching around nothing. He grasps your trembling form so softly, and places a kiss just over your tailbone. There’s several moments that the two of you spend just trying to catch your breaths. A soothing hand runs up and down your flank before you feel him shift you back into his arms.

* * *

Vergil leans you back against him, panting heavy and worn out in the tepid water, when his cock taps against the base of your spine. He’s still hard.

He peers down at you. Your eyes are glossed over, unseeing, teary - he notes your slackened jaw and the shallow, quivering pants you’re taking. Holding you close to him, mindful of your aching body, he catches his breath while stroking a hand up and down your sternum; your body sags in his arms, your heartbeat racing. It’s a long moment before he manages to speak, cutting through the sticky-warm silence of the room, and even then he can only manage a murmur.

“Are you alright?”

There are several seconds before you respond, letting out a shuddering sigh and nodding. You’re floating, disconnected, and it seems like you aren’t coming down anytime soon. A small part of him felt a little proud about having unravelled you so thoroughly, so exhaustively, that you were struggling to come to grips with reality, and yet - his hand feels at your fluttering heartbeat - Vergil could only sigh into your hair, clinging damp and cool against your neck.

His thumb swipes at the drool drying on your chin. You want to ask for more, you want to ask for his cock inside you, you want so desperately to keep going. You want to tell him how much you want to feel his heavy cock throb and pulsate inside your pussy as he cums, to feel his thick cum pumped so deep inside your cunt that you struggle to push it out of you, to have so much of him released inside your ass that it leaks around his cock as he fucks you through another all-consuming orgasm. Yet when you open your mouth to tell him this, to beg for him, the only sound that escapes you is an unintelligible babble. 

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“No-“

“I’m serious. That’s enough for tonight,”

You whine, twisting around to face him, inadvertently grinding back onto his dick - he hisses. Your cum is still coating his neck. You lean up and manage to lap at some of your slick before Vergil grabs you by the throat and pulls you away, choking you. You let out a shuddering moan, your hands reach up to clasp his hand tighter around your neck when he suddenly lets go. He grasps your chin instead, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“Listen to me. You can hardly speak, much less form coherent sentences. You are not fully cognisant of what’s happening right now. Are you just being a brat about using your word?” His tone is harsh. His hand clutching your chin tightens, and you gasp.

His blue eyes soften, letting go of your chin to cradle your face. He strokes your cheek. 

“How am I supposed to know if you need me to stop, or if I’ve gone too far?” He breathes. You sigh, turning your face into his palm and kissing there - mirroring him from earlier. 

Feeling that he has made his point adequately, he rises and steps out of the tub, heading towards the medicine cabinet. Pulling out antiseptic and ointment, as well as a blue glass bottle that you don’t recognise. He carries them and places them on the floor by the head of the towel-lined bench next to the bath, before grabbing a brass bowl and filling it with hot water from the sink. As the bowl fills, with his back to you, you see the tension in his shoulders - he’s trying to hold himself back.

“Vergil?” You test and he turns towards the sound of your voice. You gulp, feeling the rawness in your throat as you swallow.

He eyes you. “Ah, she speaks. What do you need?”

“I want to suck your cock,”

He lets out a tired laugh as he pads back to you, ignoring your wishes. He reaches the edge of the bath and as he leans down to scoop you in his arms, you stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Please, Vergil, I wanna get you off too.” You plead, voice rough, stroking your hand down his chest. The tension in his shoulders tightens.

His hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “Didn’t I already say? We’re done for the night,”

“Please,” You beg, catching his wandering thumb into your mouth and sucking. He lets out a deep breath and his eyes fall shut. You can see his hard cock inches from your face.

“Fine,” Accepting, finally. 

You release his thumb from your mouth and he wipes your spit across your cheekbone. He straightens himself, bringing his cock closer to you, as you rearrange yourself in the tub - sloshing the water - and kneel back to sit tenderly on your ass. Leaning forward with your mouth open, he winds his hand through your hair by the back of your neck, as if cradling the base of your head, and pulls. You moan, a chill going down your spine at the feeling.

You look up at him as he pushes his cock - leaking with pre-cum - past your lips. You moan as the overwhelming taste of him floods your senses, your mouth stretching wide around the head. You try to push him further in but the hand in your hair pulls you back, stopping you from moving forward.

You whine around him and his cock twitches in your mouth. You try and sink forward again, wanting to have more than the head of his cock in your mouth, but he tugs you back once again - harsher this time. You whine even louder around his cock head; desperate for more, you look up at him pleadingly. Vergil slicks his hair back away from his face.

“This is all you’re getting,”

He reaches down and jerks off the inches of his dick he won’t let inside you. You breathe deep out of your nose, and inhale the musky scent of him. You try once more to push more of him into your mouth but his grip is steadfast and tugging harshly - you couldn’t move, neither forward nor backward, you can only take what he gives you. There’s so much of him filling your mouth, but there’s still so much more of him that  _ isn’t _ . You swallow, feeling your cunt clench, empty.

You suckle at his head, licking him around your lips, and he huffs a choked gasp. He’s been holding back for so long that he’s already so close. Even now, he’s restraining himself, the veins in his neck straining from the pressure. You hollow your cheeks and suck him deep, the taste of his pre-cum filling your mouth and flowing down your throat. You start to feel a little dizzy at the thought of him cumming in your mouth. You lap kitten licks against his slit, trying to coax his release. His head is raised towards the ceiling, his hand clutching tighter at your hair, making electricity zip down your spine. Slowly reaching down towards the apex of your legs, you toy with your clit and gasp around his cock. He twitches, pushing a little more of him inside you before he pulls back, hauling you backwards by your hair.

He pumps his cock faster, eyes clenched shut, gasping shallow as you keep suckling at his head. He doesn’t realise that you’ve begun playing with your clit, moaning around his cock head as he leaks more pre-cum onto your tongue. Your eyes flutter closed as you think about him catching you like this, looking down at you so desperately toying with yourself on your fingers and writhing at the sensation - chasing the memory of him inside you. You moan urgently, pinching your clit meanly, when you feel yourself on the edge again. Mind scrambling as you chase your release - fingering harshly at your clit - when you feel the hand in your hair pull you off and yank your head upwards, forcing your eyes to meet Vergil’s scowl.

“Haven’t you had enough?” He growls, his eyes piercing into you. His eyes are pure black, what little was left of his glowing irises earlier are now swallowed by his pupils as he watches you struggle for what you want. You pant, inches away from his slicked cock, his other hand still jerking himself. You’re too far gone to stop. You reach your tongue out towards him, and just barely graze the tip of him before he yanks you backwards again - you cry out, adding more fuel to the fire. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth slack open at the heady mix of pain and pleasure when Vergil stuffs his cock into your mouth and starts thrusting in and out.

“I thought I told you, playtime is over,” 

He shivers, jaw clenched tight, as he forces his cock deeper into you. He breaches your throat and you gag around him - spasming around the heavy pressure cutting off your air, as he pulls out of you only to thrust in deeper. He’s holding your head still as he thrusts his cock in your mouth, not letting you take more than he wanted nor letting you back away from what he gave. You toy at your clit as you cry out around his cock, breath hitching - struggling, when he yanks harshly at your hair once more. You wail around his cock, eyes shooting open as your release hits you hard.

Your body convulses in the water as an orgasm viciously rips through you. Tears stream down your cheeks, sobbing, overstimulated and choking around him. Vergil shudders, his hands clutching your head tightly to still you as he uses your mouth to chase his release. His breaths shallow, thrusting going more erratic, his throbbing cock pulses and thickens as he shoves it deeper and deeper into your throat. You hear him snarl, feel him pulsate on your tongue, as he finally cums. 

There’s so much of it, so thick and impossibly hot, flowing down your throat and overflowing your mouth past your lips. You choke and sputter around him, trying to swallow it all, but it still coats your lips, your chin, all the way down to your breasts. Vergil’s hands loosen around your head as he pulls himself out of your mouth - eyeing the string of spit that stretches from his cock to your lips, brows furrowing at the mess he made of you.

Seeing you spent and boneless in the bath, panting hard and looking up at him with such deep-seated adoration in your eyes, his breaths shallow as a heady, tender feeling wraps tightly around his heart and settles deep in his stomach. He grazes his finger against your eyelashes before cradling your face in his hands. He hopes you don’t feel them trembling. You turn your face into his hand and kiss his palm; wordlessly telling him that you were there, coming back to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftercare for real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like it says a lot about me that i struggled more with writing cute stuff than actual porn LMAO

The water is cold by the time Vergil scoops you out of the tub. He settles you on the towel lined bench next to the bath before going to drain the water, having rolled another towel at the head of the bench for you to rest your head on earlier. The sink had been continuously filling the little brass bowl for a while now and the hot water is flowing over into the basin. By now most of the candles have burnt out, leaving the two of you mainly illuminated by what little moonlight seeped in through the window. 

Turning off the sink faucet, he soaks another washcloth in hot water as he walks over to you and - kneeling beside the bench - wipes you down. Massaging the cloth into your aching muscles, being mindful of your many bruises and marks. Your eyes growing heavier and heavier, struggling to stay open as he gently lifts your head to massage the back of your neck. Rolling you over onto your front, he wrings more hot water out of the little terry cloth towel from the brass bowl before running it up and down your spine, pressing down and mentally mapping the knots in your back. 

When he reaches your hips, you feel him fit his hand over the raw red handprints over your ass - something he couldn’t help himself from doing; as if he needed the reminder that what had happened was real. You feel his touch turn even gentler as he traces the edges of the red imprint; his breathing deepens, studying the difference in texture, before continuing his earlier ministrations. He finishes wiping you down - cleaning away the remnants of your night together - before reaching for the antiseptic. 

He soaks a cotton round with the clear liquid, gently reminding you to prepare yourself as he does so, and lightly taps at the bites and marks littering your body. You suck in a breath at the light stinging, eyes shutting closed as if trying to shut out the pain. As the liquid dries on your skin and on the cotton round, he soaks another before renewing his efforts. He’s always been fastidious about cleaning you after scenes, you couldn’t heal like he could - something you would often lament - until moments like this where he devotes all of his attention to looking after you. Although it can get a little painful, you would always bear through it.

Switching to the ointment now, the aluminium tube well worn and almost empty, he squeezes a pea-sized amount of the blue cream before rubbing it into your bruises. You hiss at the throbbing dull pain of him kneading the tender skin on your hips, your ass, and your breasts; he hushes you, mumbling that he’s almost done. He rubs the ointment onto your wrists, over the darkening rope marks, and onto your neck, and he massages it in to release the built up tension there.

By now your eyes are shut and your breathing was deepening into a more relaxed pace. You hear the shower turn on and the curtain being pulled back, and Vergil cleans himself off as the antiseptic and the ointment sink into your skin - the dull throbbing aches and pains ebbing away little by little. The lack of light in the room and the white noise of the shower running lulls you into a light sleep.

* * *

Stepping out of the shower, scrubbing a towel through his hair, Vergil eyes your sleeping form. Like this, with the glowing moonlight illuminating your skin and sleep relaxing you open, he wonders whether he’s ever seen anything more beautiful. He brushes a hand up your spine as he sits lightly on the edge of the bench, trying to commit as much of this moment to memory. Stretching out for the blue glass bottle on the tray, he uncaps the lid and pours the golden oil onto his palm - the excess spills over and drips onto your bare skin. He trickles the oil over your back, on your ass, over both of your legs - watching the thick fluid spreading over the expanse of your body, falling into clefts and filling valleys golden. Running a hand up and down your legs, he massages you, hoping to ease the pain he had inflicted.

He starts at your ankles; bending your knees, he presses deep into the arches of your feet, peppering little kisses against the tops of your toes. He kneads your Achilles tendon between his thumbs, basking in the feel of your soft, slippery skin between his hands. Working the oil up and into the muscles in your calf, then even further, he works out the tension in your legs - stroking your inner thighs. He revels in the softness there, the plushness of your body, how his fingers would slip over your oil-slicked skin. 

He moves up and rubs the oil into your back, the scent of almonds flooding his senses. Pressing down on where he felt knots on your back earlier, he works them through to release the tension in your muscles; kneading down first with both of his thumbs then with his knuckles. Working down towards your hips and massaging the muscles there before lightly rolling you over onto your back - trying his hardest not to wake you.

Pouring more oil onto his hands, he drips it over the expanse of your body, up your belly, over your breasts, down both of your arms. Starting with your hands, he fits his fingers in between yours, marvelling at how much smaller your hands were compared to his. As he rolls his thumb in the middle of your palm, he watches your sleeping face. He thinks back on all the wonderful, terrible things he’s done to make you happy, to keep you safe, to make sure you were alright and that you would sleep soundly at night; and he realises, with a start, that he would gladly do all of them again and then some, if it would keep you by his side - even if only for one more day.

Your eyes flutter open, and as you look up at him still cradling your hands so softly - with those eyes that could say so much with so little words - the anxious feeling that’s been gripping his heart disappears.

“You missed your calling,” You sigh, as he presses down on a tense muscle. A tired laugh escapes him as he kisses the tips of your fingers.

“You really think so?” Vergil asks, working his hands up to your shoulders.

“Definitely-”

You groan as he kneads down on a particularly sore tendon.

“Pretty sure if you turned Devil May Cry into a massage business, you guys would never be in the red,” 

The mental image makes you giggle. Judging by the sour look on Vergil’s face you think he’s imagining the same thing.

“I mean at the very least the two of you would actually be able to pay Lady bac-”

“Absolutely not,” 

How quickly he shuts you down makes you giggle even more.

“Besides, even after joining my brother and taking over all of the bookkeeping, he still has that bad habit of turning away payment from customers,”

“True, and yet you can’t bring yourself to admonish him either,”

Vergil stops, glancing up at you. There was a softness in your eyes that betrayed more than drowsiness. You always did know more than you let on, and no matter how much he fronted he could never truly hide anything from you. Looking away, he still feels your lingering gaze as he goes back to massaging the oil into your chest.

“Yes, that’s right,” He says mildly before plucking at one of your nipples. You start, before chuckling to yourself.

“I know what you’re trying to do Vergil,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He plucks the other.

“Vergil, I swear-” He plucks it again.

“Are you just trying to-” He rolls your nipple with his thumb. You swat at his hands, laughing while trying to get him to stop. You try to school your features into something resembling seriousness, but your smile keeps cracking through - making you laugh even harder. Vergil’s face is stony, portraying a grave thoughtfulness to him, and you would have believed him were it not for the situation the two of you were in - and the tiny hint of amusement in his eyes.

Eventually your laughs peter out, he stops his hands and lays them on your stomach, and the moment passes, leaving just the two of you revelling in each other’s presence. Your breathing slows as you catch your breath, and his hand drifts up your chest to rest over your heart - feeling your heartbeat steady. You cover his hand with yours, and lean down to kiss at his fingertip. He lets out a deep sigh, watching you all the while. You can tell he wants to say something, but he can’t make himself say it.

So you reach up and hold his face in your hand, and he turns towards your palm and places a kiss there. Wordlessly telling you everything he wants to - and ever could - say.

* * *

As the last of the candles burn out, and the warm steam of the bath floats out the open window, Vergil grabs a fluffy robe hanging off of the back of the door and wraps you securely in it. You snuggle into the plush cloth as he puts on his own, and he carries you back into your shared bedroom.

Placing you on the lounge chair next to your bed, he goes to grab a little tray that’s been partially hidden beside the bookcase in your room. How you didn’t manage to spot that, you didn’t know. Taking it with him, he makes his way back to you, placing you in his lap and resting you against his chest, before removing the little covering on the tray - revealing a small plate of figs, cheese, and little chocolate blocks. He grabs the bottle of water that’s been sitting on your night stand and lifts the straw up to your lips.

He takes his time, between feeding you little blocks of chocolate or a cut piece of a fig, and holding the bottle up to you as you drink - not wanting to overwhelm you as he holds you close to him, keeping you warm. He breathes in the scent of your hair, brushing his hand over your knee, before he feels you shift in his lap. He looks down at you, sees the satisfied exhaustion in your eyes as you peer up at him. 

You place a kiss at his jaw, then again at his cheek, then once more - on the tip of his nose. He lets out a chuckle at that last one. You smile over his lips, before kissing him there too. His eyes fall shut and he pulls you closer to him, deepening the kiss. You pull at his hair, purposely mussing it up, and he nips at you in retaliation. You pull away, smirking, before resting your forehead against his - your eyes falling shut, and you let out a tired moan. He strokes a soothing hand up and down your back.

Vergil puts the tray down on your night stand, placing the glass bottle just beside it. You glance at him, eyes heavy but still curious. He places a kiss at your temple in apology before lifting you off of his lap and back in the lounge chair.

“I’m going to get a change of sheets, and then I’ll come back and bring you to bed,” Vergil says. 

You clasp your arms around his neck before he can step away.

“I won’t be long,” He whispers, kissing you again. “Promise,”

He untangles your arms from him before grabbing the nearby throw blanket and bundling you in it, keeping you warm to replace his incessant body heat. He strips the ruined sheets off of the bed before leaving the room. He had left the door open a little bit and, mere moments later, you overhear a conversation going on downstairs. From where you were sitting, you could just make out:

“Not that I’m one to ever turn down a free show but next time could you two keep it down a b-”

You couldn’t hear the rest of what he’s saying - cut off by the sharp zing of a summoned sword whizzing through the air, followed by Dante’s choked groan of pain.

Laughing quietly to yourself while popping a square of chocolate into your mouth, you settle deeper into the warmth surrounding you, exhaustion weighing your eyes heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! hope ya liked it and please let me know what you think!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> this was surprisingly easier to write than 'nine more' maybe i'm getting better at writing? maybe i find it easier to write on the notes app on my phone??? who knows lol
> 
> i wanted to write vergil being soft, cause i like to think he gets hella sappy after sex esp after sex with someone he deeply cares for, but then my hand slipped cause apparently my brain thought this concept was too soft and needed some nasty porn
> 
> i promise i'll get around to writing something cute ;; i swear im not this nasty 100% all the time ;;;;
> 
> here's my [carrd](https://stimsins.carrd.co/) with my links  
> come yell at me lmao


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